The Dollhouse

The_Dollhouse.jpg
There’s my little Hopier…

On the floor, on her side, she rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, and stared at him without blinking.

“I don’t understand. What’s the meaning of this?”

“What do you mean, my pet?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your pet. Why did you do this to me? Never mind that. How did you do this to me? Never mind that. Just take me back. Grow me back and take me to the park where you found me. You can’t do this to another human being!”

“It’s done, my toy. There’s no going back. What’s wrong?  Don’t you like your new home?”

“It’s a dollhouse! A home for dolls! Toys! Nonliving things! I’m a man! And you kidnapped me, and brought me here! Look, just take me back, and I promise I won’t press charges.”

She laughed prodigiously at that.

“Wha- why are you laughing? Please! Take me back! I have a life! A job! I have to pay my bills!”

“None of that matters now. The only thing that matters is that you belong to me. You’ve always belonged to me. Even before I saw you, I’d already dreamt of you.”

“Lady, you are insane.”

There was a sudden switch that came on in her eyes, and the fire in them burned brighter; but there was only ice in her voice, and he caught its chill immediately.

“What did you say to me?”

“Uh… I’m sorry. I’m scared. I don’t feel well. I think I’m going to be sick.”

She sighed. “I see. I accept your apology. There’s nothing to be scared about, my toy. As long as you don’t give me reason, I’ll never hurt you. I’ll always take care of you when you feel ill. All your worries have been removed. Now your only concern is… me.”

He really did look pale. Maybe a little green, but it was a normal reaction.”You?”

“Yes. Your thoughts will be centered upon making me happy. Every day you’ll receive a list of chores that must be completed by the day’s end. You’ll have a schedule as well-”

“Wait. Please. Oh, god. Please… you… I’m a man. I have… look in my wallet! Do you have my wallet?”

“I have your old things, yes.”

“No! They are not old. Look in my wallet, and read my driver’s license. My name’s on it. And there’s money there. I have a bank account. I’ll give you everything. Just- please…”

Again, that fire in her eyes.

“My little man, let me explain in detail what you fail to understand. Nothing you wore earlier is yours. Nothing you owned before is yours. That life is no longer yours. I’m your life now. I’m what you wear; you’re what I wear; I’m all you see; you’re all I see. I give you the air you breathe, the food you eat, the water you drink. I live; you live.”

He said nothing. His eyes were now as glued to her face, to the frame of her cheeks, to the movement of her lips, to the hot breeze flowing from her nose in an increasing tempo, as her eyes were glued to his entire body.

“There is no wallet. There is no license. There is no name. There is no money. There is no bank. There is no giving me anything. I’ve taken everything. I’ve taken you. You’re my everything.”

Her breath was now like a sauna, and sweat began to pour from his pores. His mouth, however, was dry. His lips, stiff. He parted them and fought to form a single word, but could’t think of any. A frightened moan managed to escape his chest. She heard it, and smiled. Then she pursed her lips with satisfaction.

“So you don’t like your little bed in there? That’s alright, my precious toy. Let me show you mine…”

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6 thoughts on “The Dollhouse

  1. A giant hand then came into view and engulfed the tiny man’s form. (The camera then pans off. Soon, the squeak of bed springs, feminine groans and barely perceivable male screams could be heard. For HOURS.) Oh sorry, my mind just went into screenwriting mode! I blame how good this post was!

    Liked by 1 person

      • True. Little H does not have thoughts, since little H is only a toy. Toys are only affected by reality, so it’s all they can grasp.

        There will be nothing comical about what happens to little H next. But there may be a strip involved. Or two. Or…

        Liked by 1 person

    • He’s quite clever, in fact. His initial reaction is understandable, but a smart little man does know he must adapt. And he eventually does. What other choice does he have? 🙂

      And only some of the furniture is plastic. The way I imagine it, most of it is constructed by me, or expert craftsmen, of soft woods, or fabric, or strong cardboard. Everything polished smooth to feel like silk, and never scratch his delicate body.

      Like

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